


late nights, blue lights

by b_minor



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psycho-Pass Fusion, Gen, the rest of akigumi mentioned in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_minor/pseuds/b_minor
Summary: “I’m not a kid.”“I know you’re not. But we're friends, aren't we?"A Psycho-Pass AU featuring Enforcer!Omi and Inspector!Juza
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	late nights, blue lights

**Author's Note:**

> Wow can you believe we live in a reality where A3! is doing a collaboration with Psycho-Pass?

Juza feels himself nodding off, but he can’t stop now, not when there are still hundreds of files to sift through for any scrap of a lead they can get on this case. It’s quiet without the sounds of Taichi talking himself through a problem or Omi softly humming to himself as he worked. The rest of the team had slowly trickled out over the course of the night. Azami had gently but firmly dragged a flagging Taichi from his work desk out first. None of them had missed the fact that Taichi's thumbnails had been chewed to the quick--a nervous habit he’d been scolded for in the past. Chief Inspector Furuichi only left after several increasingly insistent calls over the course of the evening. They were most likely from his wife. Omi had been the last to leave, and Juza pointedly played ignorant to the look of concern sent his way by the older man. 

And Banri. Well. Banri was still attached to several tubes and machines, his consciousness buried deep under the haze of a bunch of medications Juza couldn’t even begin to pronounce. 

He’d been like that for several weeks now. There was no way he wouldn’t be able to keep track--Chigasaki was by his bedside almost every time he’d visited. Whenever he walked in, the man would glance up from his comm to greet him and make an off-hand statement about how many days he’s had to help complete daily logins for his gaming partner. It was clearly a way to lighten the mood, and there was never any vitriol or biting sarcasm behind the things he said, but Juza felt like shit all the same. That was probably why he didn’t visit very often.

He registers that he’s been reading the same sentences several times over in the past five minutes and sighs quietly. Glancing at the time proves to be a mistake, and he drags a hand down his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He was pretty sure that at this point he’d missed several calls from Kumon and Muku checking in on him. He’d text back as soon as he was done here. If he’d ever be done here. But he couldn’t stop, not if delaying things could risk the trail growing even colder. He had to bring down the ones who did this to his--co-worker? Rival? Friend? 

Regardless, there was still more to do.

A hand touches his shoulder, and even in his most exhausted state his training kicks in and he twists around to intercept and disarm the intruder. To his alarm, however, he’s almost immediately pinned back into his chair.

“Whoa, hey. Calm down. It’s just me. It’s not like anyone else could get in here without clearance, right?”

Juza lets out a breath he had unconsciously been holding. “Omi-san? What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And then I was worried that I’d find you were still here,” Omi replies, a touch of mirth coloring his words. “Not that I was wrong.”

“I’m not a kid.” 

“I know you’re not. But we're friends, aren't we?” Omi then pulls back, relaxing his grip on Juza’s wrists. The room suddenly feels colder without the other man’s warmth looming over him. He rubs at his wrists to chase away the phantom feeling of the other man’s hands. The Enforcer dusts off his pants and stands back up. “Since it’d be hypocritical of me to suggest that you go to sleep, I’ll get us some coffee.”

Juza watches him stroll back into the hallway, then turns back to his screen. Friend. They’d never really talked about it before. If he was being honest, Juza’s never really had many friends to begin with, aside from his brother and cousin. Banri was probably the closest he’s come in a long time to that, but now he’s gone and ruined everything. The other man will probably deck him (deservedly) in the face and never speak to him again if--no, when he wakes up. To think that Omi considered a mess-up like him a friend.

According to whispers, Omi Fushimi was a walking, breathing reminder of what could happen if Inspectors failed to manage their mental health and fell off the deep end. No one would ever know the exact circumstances behind the incident that led to his downfall, nor the death of his partner. Juza had read in textbooks during his academy days about the dangers of latent criminals, how even those working as Enforcers couldn’t ever really be trusted. That description was so far removed from Taichi and Omi, both of whom had been nothing but kind (though Taichi’s enthusiasm even during some of the more gruesome cases could make people uncomfortable sometimes). Were it not for the fact that they couldn’t leave this building without supervision, they were just...normal.

The sound of a mug being set on his desk snaps him out of his navel-gazing. Omi leans against his desk, his own cup of coffee cradled in both hands.

“Three creams and eight sugars, right?” 

He pulls the mug towards himself and takes a sip. It’s perfect. “...yeah. Thanks.”

Omi smiles, then looks back to the articles Juza’s opened up. Juza is definitely not looking at said articles and is instead looking at Omi, the older man’s profile backlit by the cyan glow of the screens. The scar on his chin, cleanly healed but never faded, is pronounced against the landscape of an otherwise unmarred face. 

When they’re in the field together, people often eye Juza’s Public Safety Bureau jacket with suspicion, as if unsure how such a wild-looking man could possibly be the Inspector between the two of them. If Juza’s being honest, he often wonders the same thing.

He wants to ask him. About the scar. About what could have gone so wrong in his past for his Hue to have clouded over so badly. About why despite everything he still remains so _good_.

But he won’t. At least not for now. Instead, he takes another sip of his coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> find me yelling about idol and idol-adjacent properties on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bflat_minor)


End file.
